


The calm after the storm

by withowlmyheart



Series: Bokuaka Oneshots [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Light Angst, M/M, Minor Injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-24 02:33:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21091949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withowlmyheart/pseuds/withowlmyheart
Summary: Bokuto is the storm. Akaashi is the calm.When Bokuto can only focus on what he has done wrong, Akaashi is there to remember him that there's light even in the darkness.





	The calm after the storm

The claps of the coach signalled the end of the training. Akaashi sighed and ran his right hand across his forehead, wiping the sweat beads that adorned it. It had been one of those tiring days one didn't want it to end. That Saturday morning they had a morning practice as usual. However, after lunchtime (where he had to remind Bokuto not to eat everything he caught to avoid unnecessary vomiting) they got on the academy bus and went to the pavilion where they played against a powerful team from the country who cited them for a friendly match. Everyone was motivated in their own way. Onaga intended to be calm, although the rhythmic pounding of his foot against the ground and the constant questions he asked Washio about his rivals betrayed him. The middle blocker explained the most important details, but he was also excited so they ended up talking about strategies and new ideas for the game. Sarukui, Komi and Bokuto had found the perfect amusement bothering a sleepy Konoha. The blond spiker sat in front of Bokuto and Akaashi, next to Komi and Sarukui. As usual, he growled about the bad state of the roads before falling asleep. Konoha was the grumpy owl of the team. And, of course, the perfect target. Sarukui found a restaurant ticket in his pocket and went to throw it away, but Bokuto extended his arms energetically (obviously slapping Akaashi, if not it would not be himself) to get his attention when an idea occurred to him. Because of the brightness in the eyes of his partner, he knew it would be nothing good, so he refused to participate. The third-year twisted the paper to make a small spear and entertained himself by putting it in the nostril of Konoha. The spiker wrinkled his nose, grumbled and woke up annoyed. When he saw nothing out of the ordinary, he fell asleep again. They were doing it the whole trip. Aloud, Akaashi reproached that behaviour, but for himself, he had to admit it was fun to see a confused sleepy grumpy owl and his companions hiding asleep. Akaashi especially liked that part, when time gave him a moment to lose himself in the face of the captain he had been in love with for months.

The match was an absolute victory for Fukurodani. The other team was formidable, nobody would deny it, but they were simply better. Especially Bokuto. Akaashi had rarely witnessed matches in which his upperclassman gave 200% of himself. It was like a slap which reminded him that he was with one of the best players in the country. Bokuto Kōtarō was a star. Fourth best ace in Japan. Captain of one of the strongest schools. He participated several times in the national tournament. How could he not admire and fall in love with such a person? Because the two-coloured hair was, in Akaashi's eyes, perfect. He had the world at his feet and a longing for the victory that would take him to become a professional player in the future. The only thing the setter feared was not being able to keep up.

But, returning to the game, it was thanks to his captain that it was not too complicated to get both sets. While it was true Bokuto entered his depressed mode in the last quarter, for the rest of the game he was impressive. He received balls that even the libero took for lost, he spiker each of Akaashi's settings with a force that seemed to want to silence the crowd.

When the team returned with a victory they closed the day with one last training as good as the game. Akaashi was exhausted, he should admit it. However, he knew a certain player with owl hair would stay there a little longer. And if that meant being able to spend some more time with the boy he was in love with, he could continue until his whole body failed.

"Bokuto, do you need me to toss some balls to you?"  
"Not today." Bokuto threw the ball, jumped and hit it with all his might. It slammed into the net and Akaashi saw the grimace of frustration on his face. "I was thinking of practising my serves. I do not want to hit Konoha’s back again. I fear running out of his patience and waking up without eyebrows!"  
"You know Konoha's threats are not as serious as he says, don’t you?"  
"You don't know what he is capable of. He already shaved Komi once. In addition, you must be exhausted, 'Kaashi." The captain approached his setter and rested his hand on his shoulder, giving Akaashi one of his beautiful smiles. "Rest, tomorrow we will train twice!"

Akaashi nodded. Although he wanted to spend more time with his captain, he was right about his physical condition. With his exhaustion, he would not make good settings and would be more a hindrance than an aid.

He left the gym, obtaining as a last image the silhouette of Bokuto surpassing the net with a brutal serve.

He took a long hot shower. The heat was comforting and pleasant. The muscles of his body thanked him for it. He left ten minutes later, he picked up his things and returned to his room with a single line of thought: Bokuto. Always on top, pointing to the top. Always smiling. Always good.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃  
┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊  
┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ˚✩ ⋆｡˚ ✩  
┊ ┊ ┊ ✫  
┊ ┊ ︎✧  
┊ ┊ ✯  
┊ . ˚ ˚✩

Akaashi's elegant figure was lost through the threshold. Bokuto pressed his fingers against the ball.

Nothing was ok.

A flashback went through his head reminding him of the math suspense of the previous day. The professor recriminated his lousy mark in front of the whole class and they burst out laughing. How not? It was the third consecutive zero he scored. Bokuto took the test with laughter, arguing that he had not been able to study because of volleyball.

Lie.

The Fukurodani’s ace had struggled throughout the last month to carry out the test. He spent sleepless nights. He returned from training, took a shower and plunged into books. However, the exercises did not come out. It was one failure after another. It didn't matter how much the wing spiker tried. Bokuto Kōtarō was not a genius. You are stupid, studies will never be your thing. That's why he preferred to lie and no one knew the real effort he put in. It was easier to accept the laughter of others who believed he did not give his best to know the truth and look at him with pity.

He passed Konoha's side, who was pulling off a tear from laughing so much. He sat in the last row, by the window, and sank into his chair. He paid no attention to the rest of the class. It doesn’t mind, it was not like he was going to understand anything either.

Bokuto threw the ball and jumped. He hit it and the trajectory was not good. It went to the gym’s wall. The line delimiting the margin of the field seemed to laugh at his horrible serves and his lack of concentration.

The same day he received the math test, in history class. Bokuto remembered clearly when they announced the next group work. It encouraged him. The owl captain loved working with others. It was an excellent opportunity to establish a relationship with their classmates and learn from them. You could say he was a sociable animal by nature. Bokuto was so excited that the ace took his sandwich, asked Akaashi to have lunch with Konoha and company that day, and shot out to talk to the boys assigned to him for the project. He was taking small leaps, getting everyone's attention, but he didn't care in the least.

"What about the bitch of history?" He heard a voice on the roof.

"That bastard hates us, I am pretty sure!" protested one of his companions. Bokuto looked out and saw they were the boys he had to work with on the project. "We have to work with who has marked the triplet of zeros."

"Who are you talking about? Does someone have three zeros? Really?"

"Bokuto," the two who spoke first, snorting, replied in unison.

"Holy shit. I wish you well."

Bokuto had remained hidden leaning against the wall. He sighed and threw the sandwich in the trash. He was not hungry anymore. All his illusion had been shattered and trampled. They did not want to work with him. Sure they considered him stupid, too loud, annoying. Like his old middle school classmates. "It is impossible to keep up with Bokuto, he is very annoying"; "He is very strange with that hair and always smiling"; "I hope he realizes we don't even want to train with him." Bokuto thought when he left there it would be fine, in Fukurodani he would find a home. In some way he had. When he thought of Akaashi, he felt a warmth in his chest. However, far from its heat, the world was cold. It rejected him. Because Bokuto was different from the rest. And society does not like what stands out. But he is like that, he can't help it. He wished he could do it. Being smart like Akaashi, funny like Komi, kind like Sarukui, skilled like Konoha... But no, he was Bokuto, the useless screamer.

A new serve. Worse than the last. A scream came out of his lips. Why couldn't he focus on training and do it better? Why did his classmates hate him? Why was he not good at any subject? Why? Why? Why?

The only thing you're good at is volleyball. But then his mind decides to play a little more with him because it is fun. He likes to squirm, torture him, see how much pain he can bear. It is the director of the horror movie in which Bokuto has immersed himself.

During the afternoon's game, he made endless mistakes. He went for every lost ball, but he didn't reach all of them. Run! Run! Run! You will not lose while the ball is in the air. However, they fell. The team lost five points this way. He turned a deaf ear to the congratulations like they didn’t exist. Because Bokuto thought he didn’t deserve it. His head only focused on mistakes. He was unable to see the good plays. It will do no good if you keep dropping so many balls. By the end of the game, his body was unable to react correctly. It hurt every fibre. His muscles felt heavy, each jump was as if it were the last. Because of the intense training that was done has been submitting. But it was not enough. The match proved it. Above his body was weak, he failed when he needed it most. Weak, weak, weak. That's why you're never number one.

That's why Akaashi will look for a real ace.

That simple thought triggered the captain's fall out.

He punched the ground. It rang throughout the gym. Tears furrowed his cheeks already out of control. He had lost his nerve. Again his damn emo mode. The whole audience laughing at him. Even worse: the team. They had to endure the teasing of spectators and rivals because Bokuto was an unstable fucking mess. They took care of him one more time. To him, the captain, who was supposed to be the main pillar. But, the reality was, that Bokuto was a shitty captain. He repeated it over and over again to himself. Akaashi always dealt with his comings and goings with a patience touching the absurd. Why was Akaashi so good? Why was Akaashi so perfect? Everything Bokuto wanted to be in life. He loved how Akaashi was so considerate with him. In the games, Akaashi covered his mistakes, encouraged him when necessary and gave him a dose of reality when his ego shot up after a successful match. And, on certain occasions, he hugged and whispered that he was the best. As much as his companions told him when the brunette did it, it was when he really believed it. A few seconds. For a few seconds, he thought Akaashi’s words were real. Akaashi was a lifeguard in the middle of a tempest. The calm in the middle of the storm.

How long would it take to get tired of enduring the storm that was Bokuto?

He distributed a series of punches with both hands against the ground. The skin of his knuckles cracked until it broke and blood slid down his hand.

Deplorable.

Physical pain was tolerable, he thought looking at his hands, which passes through his face in a futile attempt to clean the blood dripping from his nose. It didn't work, because it fell again and again. And he didn’t care. Physical pain was something he can endure, it was liberating. His thoughts focus on it and not on the waves of negative thoughts absorbing him. Bokuto hit the ground again, crying silently. Because if he didn’t, if he kept thinking, the storm would drown him forever.

And he wonders, would it really be so bad? Why continuing fighting it?

A blow, stronger than the previous ones. He felt a stab of pain starting in his knuckles and reaching his back. He groaned and noticed how his body didn’t want to respond anymore. The floor looked like a mixture of reds and oranges. He would have to clean it so nobody noticed it. To kept his secret.

He didn’t want anyone else to know how weak the ace was.

But a warmth suddenly enveloped him. It appeared without a warning and wrapped him like a blanket in winter, moving away all existing cold. It felt good. A hand brushed his cheek and saw long, thin fingers that he would recognize anywhere in the world.

Bokuto burst into tears.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃  
┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊  
┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ˚✩ ⋆｡˚ ✩  
┊ ┊ ┊ ✫  
┊ ┊ ︎✧  
┊ ┊ ✯  
┊ . ˚ ˚✩

The moon lacked little to reach the zenith of its daily trajectory over the Japanese sky. Akaashi saw it from the window when he reached his room. His partner was already sleeping. Normal, it was past eleven. He placed the bag on the perfectly made quilt and removed his belongings one by one. He took inventory, like every day, and let out a curse when he realized he had forgotten his knee pads in the gym. Since he did not use them, he often tended to leave them anywhere. He took a quick look at the clock he and his partner had agreed to hang in the room. Or rather Akaashi bought it, asked if it seemed good and the opposite simply nodded to return to his video games.

On the other side of the gym door, Akaashi heard knocks, which surprised him. Wasn't anyone supposed to be there at that time? He knew Bokuto had been training, but more than an hour? He was capable, of course, but would he do such nonsense? What if he got injured? Or he might have left and forgot to lock. Yes, it would not be the first time they arrived the next day and found all the material like the previous day and the door open. Luckily, the coach was not the first to arrive, because Bokuto would not have had extra training in his entire student life.

Akaashi opened the door. But never, not in a million years, would he expect to find what he found on the other side.

Because, like everyone else, Akaashi thought Bokuto was the happiest being on the planet.

Like everyone else, Akaashi didn't think he hid anything else behind the ace's genuine smile.

Like everyone else, Akaashi was sure Bokuto's emo mode was part of his exaggerated personality.

And yet, Akaashi discovered his shattered captain punching one after the other, not caring if his knuckles were bleeding and splattering the ground and his shirt. If Bokuto had listened carefully he would have heard the heart of the setter breaking.

He did not think anymore. His legs were activated and he ran away, pouncing on the wing spiker, hugging him. He didn't have an idea of what was going into Bokuto's head, but he couldn't let him keep doing that. He brought his right hand to the bicolour's cheek, caressing it, while his left hand took Bokuto’s fist to stop.

"Bokuto... Bokuto, please stop..."

Akaashi heard the pitiful sound of Bokuto's cry, one who wished he had never heard. Kotaro was the last person the setter wanted to see crying. So... broken.

"Please, Akaashi... Please, leave... I... I don't want... I don't want you to see me like that... Please."

But Akaashi denied. He pressed his captain's body against his chest for a few more seconds and released him.

"You don’t know me if you think I am going to leave you alone in this state or that I'm even going to judge you for it."

Akaashi's words took effect because Bokuto nodded. His shoulders relaxed slightly and he lifted his chin. The green-eyed one moved away carefully as if the slightest movement unleashed Bokuto from fragmenting completely. It was there when he first observed the bloody face of the ace. He wanted to get up, turn around and leave as if he had never seen such pain in Kotaro. Of course, he did not do so and rebuked himself for even thinking about it. But how much pain was his friend going through? Akaashi believed he was able to glimpse any state of Bokuto. However, he had proof of his failure. Bokuto was not the person everyone believed, of course. It was human. And like every human, he fell and broke.

"I will leave just for a moment to get the first aid kit, okay?"

Bokuto clung tightly to the shirt of his setter, again crestfallen. Akaashi had never witnessed such a state of weakness from his captain. He wanted to sit down, hug him, kiss him until all his wounds (physical and mental) healed. But he couldn't do it. He had to treat his knuckles and nose, clean him, because was clear Bokuto wouldn't do it himself.

"I will return in a couple of minutes, I promise."

Bokuto did not release him.

"You're going to leave me, right? You got tired of me."

"What? No, of course not. Bokuto, I would never get tired of..."

Suddenly the realization shook Akaashi.

"Do you think you are a burden to us?"

The aforementioned did not respond but was not necessary. The lack of words was the only confirmation Akaashi needed to knew he was right. Bokuto also hid his head further between his legs.

"I don't know why you think that, but I'll tell you something. Bokuto, you are the best. I don't say it to cheer you up. I really think so. You are the reason why I came to Fukurodani. When... When I saw you playing... Have you ever seen a person and thought "shit, I want to be like him"? That was just what I thought when I saw you spiking for the first time. But it was not your strength or your ability. The way the others ... Do you know? They looked at you with total admiration. Everyone. Didn't you notice?" Bokuto denied with a shyness Akaashi had not seen before. "Well, I do. Bokuto, I can assure you, you got everyone's attention. Because you are great. If you think I'm making it up and I am the only one who thinks it, why are you the captain? The third years last year chose you as the captain because they knew your potential, true, but also because you are the kind of person who inspires others. If it wasn't for your passion and your charisma I... No, I sure wouldn't be the setter I am now. The whole team trusts you."

"Akaashi… I…"

"Let me finish, please. I don't know what kind of thoughts you have, because obviously I'm not in your head, but you must know that I am never getting tired of you. You are my best friend and... One of the most important people in my life. I don't mind dealing with your emo mode, nor those of the team. Because we are aware that everyone has dips, and you are always there for us when it happens to us. That's why we won game after game. We are there for each other. Forever. Whatever happens, you can always count on me. Now, wait for me while I go for the medicine cabinet, please."

Akaashi this time finished getting up and it took only a few minutes to return with a white box that he deposited on the ground.

"Does it hurt so much?"

Bokuto shook his head. He tried to hide the knuckles, but Akaashi was faster and took his hand.

"This may bother you. Sorry."

Akaashi extracted the canister of hydrogen peroxide and poured it over Bokuto's wounds. The golden-eyed growled.

"Akaashi, that hurts."

"Next time you will think twice."

Silence settled between them again, but this time it was not as dense or overwhelming as when Akaashi found Bokuto in such state.

"I..." He clicked his tongue and Akaashi realized he was trying to find the right word.

"Collapsed."

"Yes. I collapsed." However, he did not feel better. He shied away from his gaze. "I'm not good with words..."

"It's true. I always beat you at Scrabble". Akaashi detected the first symptoms of Bokuto's emo mode. He passed the gauze with hydrogen peroxide over the left-hand knuckles of the ace. This time he received no complaints. "But, I always lose at video games. And I have seen the drawings you made in the club book."

Bokuto raised his head suddenly. His hair, Akaashi would swear, spiky, and his mouth slightly open.

"Akaashi, that's personal!"

"You left the notebook in the middle of the gym, I looked at it to find out who it was from. I don't know why you are ashamed, the drawings are amazing." Bokuto let out a groan and Akaashi shot him a warning look for his continuous movement. "Be quiet or it will hurt more. What was I saying…? Ah yes, your drawings. The two hugged owls were beautiful. The biggest one reminded me a lot of you."

The only response he received from Bokuto was an "hm" and a soft laugh escaped the black-haired lips. He left the gauze to change it for a new one and pass to the right hand of his captain.

"Did you see the others?"

"No. I imagined you wouldn't want anyone to see them, because you never told us about them, so I respected your privacy."

But I want to have done it. Akaashi surprised himself by watching for more than ten minutes the detailed owls the ace had drawn. The largest had white, grey and black plumage, with huge golden eyes and arched eyebrows; Like Bokuto. He held between his feathers a second owl with black feathers, regal countenance and green eyes. It seemed that the first one protected the other, but he noticed that it was actually mutual. If you knew where to look, you could see how the smallest owl hugged the big one and was on his chest. The setter wondered if that owl would represent someone. Maybe Kuroo? After all, he was his ace's best friend. Envy caused him to unwittingly press the gauze harder. Bokuto howled in pain.

"I'm really sorry." He apologized ashamed for his lack of control. "You are an excellent athlete and your drawings are great, you know? Don't think that those talents are less than those who stand out in science or languages. Sports entertains a lot of people and for some, it is their whole life. Without art, the world would have no colour. You are art in itself. Ah, I think that's it." He took a quick look at Bokuto's knuckles. Although now they were clean, with no trace of blood left, there was the redness of a wound that would take time to heal. He thought about bandaging it, but when he went to it Bokuto grabbed him by the wrist and denied.

"That's OK. I want to remember what happened. Everything."

Akaashi didn't know how to interpret his last word. Did he mean the pain? Did he want to keep torturing himself? Or... maybe what Bokuto really wanted to remember was Akaashi's words. He would never receive an answer to his question because the captain got up and went to his bag, thrown several meters further.

"Bokuto, wait, I still have to...!"

When Bokuto returned he was surprised to see in his arms a black, white and yellow notebook with the sticker of an owl with sunglasses in the centre. A gift from Konoha after the announcement of Bokuto as the new team captain.

The ace of Fukurodani did not mention anything. He sat next to Akaashi and handed him the notebook he took gladly. Hands wrapped around his waist shyly and it was not necessary to take his eyes off the notebook to know that Bokuto was approaching him until he rested his head on the shoulder of the setter. It was a custom he had acquired and Akaashi couldn't be happier with it. So he managed to enjoy Bokuto's unique perfume, that sweaty mixture, freshly washed clothes (because Mrs Bokuto made sure her son didn't wear dirty clothes any day) and fixing gel. Anybody else might have found it a disgusting mix, but not the setter. It was the smell of Bokuto and, frankly, it wasn't that bad. In fact, it was the scent that made his heart racing.

Akaashi turned the pages. He did not read the captain's diary, because he already knows every note about the training and matches, because as the vice-captain he had to know it. Instead, all his attention went to the drawings adorning the pages. Most were animals, of course, owls dominating (it was pretty obvious owls were Bokuto’s favourite animal). But there were also figures. Of people. Two men shaking hands, or taking an ice cream, sitting in the park, under the starry sky. They were silhouettes, but nostalgia hit Akaashi. He had repeated those scenes with Bokuto himself. It hurt to think that maybe it was the recreation of them with another person. He glanced at his captain, who interlaced the fingers of his hands. His eyes ended again in those ugly wounds. He agreed that his hand was just above the ace's legs, revealing his bruises. He thought he had done them for training, but a new question arose: what if they were the product of nights like that one? How many times would Bokuto have been on the edge of the abyss? His heart shrunk and he noticed how his vision was blurring because of the tears wanting to leave. Why couldn't he have noticed before? Why didn't he stop his captain from bleeding through his nose and knuckles that night? No, that was the past, Akaashi told himself. Now he knew, and he would make sure Bokuto's insecurities didn't hurt him again. He would flatter him, stroke his hair as he liked it so much, and remind him again and again how great he was.

"Why did you give me this, Bokuto?" The question was suddenly born from the mouth of Akaashi, who questioned the reason why he saw the bicolour hair drawings. He obviously did it to quench his curiosity. After all, Bokuto also knew how to read the setter and must have understood in his eyes that he wanted to see more of those drawings.

"Because I want you to see the last page."

And Akaashi did it. He could have continued to pass them one by one, rejoicing in the art of Bokuto, but he did not. Akaashi hated surprises. So he turned the notebook and opened it.

His jaw opened so much that he feared he would have dislodged it.

"Bokuto is this...?"

Bokuto nodded with a shy smile. He tilted his head, causing his hair to brush Akaashi's neck, tickling him.

The brunette lightly clenched his fingers around Bokuto's. He did not complain.

The drawing was not owls, nor silhouettes. It was the faithful portrait of a person. A young man with curly hair, fine cheekbones, and a sharp look that observed some distant point. However, Akaashi knew exactly what he was looking at. He even knew the reason why his lips curved in a sincere smile that endowed his face with unmatched beauty. He knew it because the drawing was him, after the first game they won with Bokuto as captain and Akaashi as the official setter. He would never forget that day. He never thought Bokuto would remember it like him. That he would be able to draw it with a halo that seemed to raise it to an almost angelic level.

Akaashi could have said many things at that time. He could have asked Bokuto why he had a drawing of him, why he remembered him, why he wanted to show him that. But he did not. Because the setter knew the answer. It was the same as why Akaashi was always with Bokuto at lunchtime despite belonging to different courses. Or why he had felt Bokuto's pain as his own.

Bokuto was in love with Akaashi. As much as he was.

Akaashi's thin fingers caught the ace's cheeks and approached him until his lips joined. It was a short kiss, rather a touch, but even something like that was enough for their hearts to speed up.

"I ... Can we repeat it? Please."

A genuine smile was drawn on the face of the setter and he nodded. He bent down again and they kissed, this time for longer. Ace's lips matched Akaashi's clumsily, although the same thing happened to him. It was an inexperienced kiss, but normal considering that it was the first for both of them. However, years later, Akaashi and Bokuto would continue to describe it as the best of his life. Because the skill didn't matter but the feeling in them.

Neither of them knew how much time they spent sitting there, but they didn't care. They kissed until their lips swelled, and then Bokuto rested his forehead on Akaashi's shoulder and Akaashi entertained himself stroking Bokuto’s back and hair. The wing spiker repeatedly kissed the boy's neck, causing his laughter.

Bokuto's life was not arranged by magic. It did not turn into a soft walk. The insecurities of the ace did not disappear. Life was not a romantic story in which everything heals with the power of love. But every time Bokuto felt the weight of the world on him, every time he broke, Akaashi was there to hug him and lift him. In the same way that Bokuto did with him. Because Bokuto discovered that Akaashi also collapsed sometimes. He cried, felt insecure, and could not find his way. They were all human after all, they were wrong and somehow they tried to move on.

But Bokuto understood something that day in Akaashi's strong arms: Akaashi was his calm after the storm.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you very much for reading. I hope you'd enjoyed it.
> 
> You can find me on Twitter: @stanfukurodani.


End file.
